Quin-Wizard Cup
by Smashing Skunk53
Summary: The newest magical community, though isolated with ties to America, Professor Dumbledore believes that they could be great help in the fight against the rising forces of Voldermort. What better way to build international ties than a tournament?
1. Prologue

The whole of Hogwarts was lined across the grounds as they waited for the delegations from the other schools. Even with his winter robes, Harry Potter bristled in the snow of late October. The Quin-Wizard Cup was shaping up to be quite a spectacle, Beauxbaton Academy of Magic came in a magical carriage that flew through the sky with giant winged horses. Drumstrang Insitute arrived with boat rose from the depths of the Black Lake, and Harry could not but wonder how they ended up in the lake in the first place.

As both groups of visitors headed inside the castle, Ronald Weasley shifted on his feet. "Where are they? It's bloody cold out here."

Hermione shrugged. "I have no idea. There was barely any information on Beauxbaton and Drumstrang in the library let alone these other two." She rubbed her hands together for warmth. "According to Lavender, most of the pureblood families don't think too much of the other two schools."

Imagining Malfoy scoffing towards some distance foreigners, Harry rolled his eyes at the thought. "Of course they don't."

The Gryffindor girl continued, "Most of the Wizengamot doesn't like them because they are closely tied with a major muggle enterprise in America-" Harry could practically hear the gears turning inside of her head. "Its on the tip of my tongue."

In the distance, Harry could see two dots coming toward him. "I think that might be them." He said, pointing out the distance as two aircraft flew above the treeline. There was murmurs among all the houses, but Harry could not exactly hear what they were saying.

As the aircraft came within view, hovering above the crowd, they looked nothing like American aircraft, let alone muggle creations.

Hermione snapped her fingers, "Now I remember." She looked at the ships in the air above them and smiled. "Hollywood."

The two ships were in stark contrast to one another. One was angular, sharp corners and covered in a cold grey colour. The other was painted dull orange and white, and was far more rounded. The glaring similarity between the two however, was the glowing blue energy coming out of the engines at the rear of the craft.

Inside of Harry's mind, he recognized the ships. He saw tidbits from movies the Dursleys' watched in the living room. His Uncle and Aunt mocked it constantly, while Dudley was spellbound by it. It was a rare sentiment shared between them, and it returned with a vengeance on this day.

As both ships touched down on the ground, the murmurs have grown to a dull roar. Hogwarts crowd grew louder only to immediately lapsed into silence when hatches on both ships opened up. Ramps extended downward to the grass below them.

From each ship hooded robed individuals strode down the ramps. From the angular ship, they were dressed in black robes, their faces enshrouded in shadows from the hoods. They moved with power and pride, every movement was constrained with untameable force.

The other group moved quite differently. Where the former moved with power and pride, the wearers of the brown robes did not walk, but flowed down the ramp with grace. As if they were one with the world around them.

He could hear startled gasps and bated breathes coming from who Harry could assume to be muggleborn students of Hogwarts. They had came to the same conclusion as he did about the fourth and fifth schools participating.

They lined on either side of the ramps for both ships, and Harry could see the large difference in size between them. Assuming them to be students and participants for the tournament, they were bigger than he expected. One even towered over Harry by four or five feet.

Both groups then lifted their arms upward, their hands encompassed a single object. Glints of silver here, gold there, and black over there. Ron leaned over to his side and whispered, "Do they have metal wands?"

Hermione whispered back in awe, "No-"

A chorus of snaps were followed by a low hiss as over two dozen blades of light snapped to life in their hands.

"They don't really practice their magic with wands." Hermione added distantly, her eyes locked on the coloured blades.

Iluminated by the strong red glow, an imposing figure emerged from the ship. His hood was lowered, but his head was covered with a disturbing helmet. Steel like plating encompassed his head, overlaid with a grey mask with red glowing eyes. A breathing unit covered the helmet where his mouth may be, and ended with points, like vicious tusks. His body enshrouded by a deep blue cloak, that seemed to drain the life around him.

His counterpart came forward, his arms crossed and within his sleeves. His face blank, but his eyes and forehead covered with a plate of metal. He appeared to the crowd of students as if he was blind, but he moved with such rare assuredness, his path was known. The slight fall breeze blow through the grounds and his brown hair wafted with it.

Both of these powerful figures came to a stop in front of Headmaster Dumbledore, their processions powered down their blades and turned with uniformity toward the gathered students and the waiting headmasters.

"Greetings Lord Azukra," Dumbledore bowed to the one in blue robes. "Grandmaster Hanik," He bowed to the other man in brown robes. "I welcome both the Sith and Jedi to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry."

"The Jedi Order appreciates both your invitation and hospitality, Headmaster Dumbledore." Grandmaster Hanik replied with a respectful bow.

Lord Azukra grunted, his voice tinged with mechanical vocalization. "It's about time. We'd almost started to think that you _magical_ folk were afraid of us." He drawled out, his distaste clearly emphasized with his statement.

Professor Dumbledore smiled back in response. "The unknown is always scary, but only by interacting with it, can fear crumble away into normality." With that he turned toward the school. "I'm sure both you and your students are tired from your trip." He waved his arm toward the Great Hall, "Please head inside, the other schools have already arrived."

Jedi and Sith alike moved inside, with a fair distance between the two groups. While many students followed after them, nearly a third of Hogwarts's students were frozen on the grounds. Harry and Hermione being some of the many students stuck in a stupor.

While the professors and other students tried to get the remainder moving. Ron attempted to shake a wistful Hermione who stared at the departure of the two newcomer schools and a paralyzed Harry. "You two alright?"

Harry spoke up, "I could've been a jedi."

 **A/N:**

 **Why is this a thing? Because I love the Goblet of Fire as a crossover starter for many, many fics. Taking in the consideration that is the universe of the Old Republic, and the breakdown that happened during the whole Infinite Empire Arc, this was the logical conclusion.**


	2. Chapter 1

Inside the Grand Hall of Hogwarts, the Hogwarts students entered the heated room with a slight skip in their step behind the most recent school delegations. Hushed conversations among the British students, much in a similar vein as the one shared between Ron, Hermione and Harry.

"I don't get it, they're magical just like us right?" Ron asked as he brushed off the small tufts of snow caught in his hair.

Hermione looked like she was about to have a conniption at his suggestion. "It's not just that Ron! It's the fact that jedi-I mean force users are real." She muttered back, her eyes lingering on the jedi and the sith, all of who were still hooded with the exception of their masters. "It's like learning magic is a real thing all over again."

Harry continued, "You haven't seen the movies Ron." His eyes drifted over to the Jedi Grandmaster. He was a great deal taller than Yoda in the movie, but he still carried that same wise teacher air, much like Professor Dumbledore. "If they call themselves, jedi and sith-" His eyes widen comically at a single thought. "You think one of the sith can shoot lightning from their hands?"

Ron's eyes bugged out, "Wandless magic?"

Hermione ignored his question, not out of spite, but out of the due order. "Probably. I mean, what better way to hide their existence than with the greatest bit of movie cinema." She turned to Ron her mouth opened wide as if to give him an automatic response only to freeze. It took her a moment, her eyes blinked a couple of times as if her mind was rebooting itself. "I-I don't know." The young witch stammered out.

The students lined their tables, just behind the benches of their seats. Harry made sure to give Ron's robes a small tug to keep him from seating down before the welcome speech.

Headmaster Dumbledore, in his brightest and colourful robes, tapped his wand against his throat. His voice boomed out of his throat as he was heard clearly throughout the Grand Hall. "I'm sure our guests are tired from their long trips to the British Isles, and in the interest of international cooperation, the students and faculty of Hogwarts will share our tables and food." He clapped his hands together.

All four house tables trembled and shook, then they extended toward the head table, the table cloths matching each house colour. He pointed to each table as he spoke. "Drumstrang students please take your seats at the green table with the Slytherin House, Beauxbatons at the blue table with the Ravenclaw House, Jedi alcoylotes can seat at the red table with Gryffindor, and lastly, the Sith can join the Hufflepuff." He spread his arms wide then said, "Please take your seats everyone."

The students arranged themselves, while the teachers and headmasters overlooked them from their place in front of the head table. Once the students had settled, Headmaster Dumbledore continued, "Allow me to introduce the tournament organizers and my counterparts and our sister schools,-"

"Headmaster Igor Karkaroff of the Drumstrang Insitute, located near the country of Bulgaria."

Karkaroff stood as tall as Dumbledore, but with far less cheerful demeanor. His beard was shorter, and far less elegant. His cold blue eyes wandered the hall as the entirety of the hall politely clapped for the man as he took his chair.

"The Headmistress of Beauxbaton Academy of Magic, Professor Olympe Maxime." The students clapped once again, as the towering women did a small curtsie. "Both she and her students hail from the many countries surrounding France." She took her seat.

The sith next to Dumbledore stood a bit taller, his robes parted slightly to reveal his grey armoured torso beneath them. The jedi on the other side of the master showcased the same. "Lord Azukra, Head of the Sith Academy," Professor Dumbledore stated as he pointed at the former. "And Grandmaster Hanik Ronnelis, the leader of the Jedi Order." The latter bowed politely. "Both schools share the city-state of Ratih-Non on the moon."

Lavender Brown a couple heads down from Harry, spoke up. "How can they have a city on the moon?"

"Muggles went to the moon a couple times in the past few decades." Colin Creevey whispered back, his eyes still locked on the jedi at the end of the Gryffindor table.

"Now that all our sister schools have been introduced, we will now speak more about the one thing that brought us all together for this year- The Quin-Wizard Cup!"

Professor Dumbledore then spoke of the dangers, the awe, and all of the fame centered around the tournament. He introduced the organizers, Crouch and Bagman, but all that information is put onto the back burner within many eyes.

The newcomers are far more interesting. Wizards from the moon is certainly a topic that sticks to their young minds.

The Goblet of Fire was lit with fanfare. Immediately, following the applause for the start of the tournament, one of the sith students stood up abruptly and despite the cheering crowd, walked directly over to the cup.

With their hood up, they looked over the hundreds of students seated within the hall, stunned into silence by their actions. They lifted their arm and dropped a scrap of paper into the cup. It flared up in acceptance, and Lord Azukra laughed in the background.

The student pulled back his hood and Harry heard startled gasps from a few students. The student's face revealed braided brown hair in golden bands, red skin that tapered off into cheek tendrils that ended at his chin and orange eyes that dared challenge from the other students. He raised his fist and shouted in triumph, which was echoed by some of the other sith students.

"What is he?" Ron whispered.

"A sith pureblood," Hermione breathed back. "This certainly gives light to the phrase, _every bit of fiction has a kernel of truth_." She paused. "I wonder if they have any Holocrons we can view."

"Well," Dumbledore was taken back by the display in front of them. "Please feel free to use tonight's food to experience the cultures of our new friends." He clapped and dishes of familiar and unfamiliar foods appeared at every table.

Following after the first entrant into the tournament, jedi and sith alike pulled down their hoods. Half of them were human, while the other half were a menagerie of different species. Harry spoke up as he saw the green-skinned male down the table from them, "Aliens." He said to himself.

One of the Beauxbaton girls came by and asked for a French dish of some sort, Ron froze, so Harry passed it over to her. She thanked him politely and headed back to the Ravenclaw table.

Hermione was prodding something that looked like some type weird chicken, only for someone to speak up behind her. "Pardon me, could I have some of that roasted porg?"

Harry and his friends looked up to see one of the jedi students standing behind her, brown robes with a cream-coloured tunic beneath it. He was quite handsome, high cheek bones, pointed chin and nearly unblemished skin. He was borderline pretty. His most glaring feature however, was the red cloth wrapped around his head, covering his eyes.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, her hands leapt forward and was prepared to pass it off to him, only to stop. She had no idea how to give it him.

The older student chuckled. "I'm not actually blind, I'm a miraluka-" The meaning of the word was lost on the Hogwarts' students. "So it's completely okay to pass it off to me."

Hermione blushed bright red. "Sorry." She passed off the foreign dish, and the jedi student was about to turn around to leave, but Hermione spoke up. "Please wait a moment!" He turned back toward her. "My name is Hermione Granger, it's a pleasure to meet you-" She drifted off, unsure of how to continue.

The boy's face broke into a smile. "Greetings Miss Granger. My name Gerran Ronnelis." He lightly dipped his head, while holding the plate of fried prog in one hand.

"I hope you don't mind, but I have so many questions about the jedi-" She paused as Harry could feel her feet nervously shift underneath the table. "Is it possible that I can ask you a few questions about the Jedi Order?" She asked.

"Sure thing, how about you sit with me and my fellow acolytes tomorrow for breakfast?" Gerran replied.

Excitement practically oozed out of Hermione. "That would be great!"

He left with a wave, going back down the table to join the rest of the jedi delegation. Hermione watched him leave, while Ron huffed beside Harry. "I still don't get what is the big deal about these guys." His face scrunched up in distaste after he took a sip of some blue milk.

"If you've seen the muggle shows, then you would understand Ron." Harry stated. He saw the dozens of other students from Hogwarts and the other European schools, their attention focused on either the Gryffindor or Hufflepuff tables. They were stealing looks or openly staring at the non-human members,

At least they were staring at someone else for awhile.

When dinner time rolled around on Hallow's Eve, the Gryffindor table was in a near uproar of good cheer. The jedi intermingled with the rest of the table during breakfast and lunch, and awkward small talk had become a thing of the past.

"Gerran was telling me over lunch that over two-thirds of their moon city are refugees from a distant war. When they first arrived about two decades ago, they made a deal with the muggle U.N to have their settlement on the moon in exchange for some technology." Hermione said, her eyes alight with wonder. "They even approached the ICW as a separate nation, because they view magic as a different rationalization of the force." She looked longingly at jedi at the table. "They have even recruited magical children as both jedi and sith."

Harry slipped in his own question. "Did he ever tell you why the Star Wars movies happen?"

The bushy-haired girl nodded, her hair bounced with the movement. "Appranently, George Lucas is the son of a couple disgruntled Imperials, and when he told the leaders of Ratih-Non about his movie they gave him the green light to head to Hollywood." She smiled as she gabbed a large slice of bantha steak. "Best way to pretend they don't exist, is to make it fiction."

As the last of the food is cleared away, Dumbledore grabbed everyone's attention. "Now that we all have eaten our fill, it's time for the drawing of the school champions!" He finished with a flourish of his arms. The Great Hall rumbled with the applause.

Soon the flames for the Quin-Wizard Cup changed their hue, from the glorious yellow and orange, to a sapphire blue. A scroll of paper popped out of the flame. Dumbledore fidgeted with glasses, building the tension in the crowd of students and teachers alike. "The champion for the Drumstrang Insitute is…Victor Krum!"

The northern students of the school loudly stomped their feet and clapped the back of the famous Quidditch player, who in contrast just gave a simple smile. His headmaster Karkaroff, practically ran to him and ushered him out of the side door to the hall.

The cup flared again before the hall could settle. "The champion for the Beauxbaton Academy of Magic is…Fleur Delacour!"

The majority of the Beauxbaton delegation clapped politely, while a few cried out in dismay. Madame Maxine ushered the blonde student, who was a picture of perfect grace, out of the side door.

The cup flared, and another scroll flew to Dumbledore's hand. "The champion of the Sith Academy is…Maris Kra!"

A girl dressed in the heavy robes of the Sith Order stood up, light orange skin with black tattooed ink going up her face and surrounding her eyes. A row horns lined her head in a straight line from the front to the back, poking through the thick, but nicely groomed hair on her head. Maris Kra smirked at her fellows around her, before she moved to the side door, Harry caught a look between Maris and Lord Azukra.

"And finally-" Dumbledore paused for dramatic effect, "The champion of the Jedi students is…Gerran Ronnelis!"

Hermione was practically shouting her support for the miralukan, and it was a sentiment shared across the Gryffindor table. The Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, gave him a friendly smile and a nod before Gerran disappeared into the side room.

A thought came to Harry, " _Are Gerran and the Grandmaster related? They have the same last name."_ He thought.

"And with that, the participants for the Quin-Wizard Cup have been chosen-" Dumbledore was interrupted when the flame flickered again, a scrap of paper flitting into the Headmaster's hand. "The sixth champion is…Harry Potter." His disbelief quite evident.

Harry Potter was frozen to his seat, but a single phrase came from his mouth, "Bugger."

 **A/N:**

 **So it continues! Expect one chapter for each event, dance included, and a slip of an epilogue. For those who are wondering, yes, the headmasters for the jedi and sith orders, are the sith warrior and jedi guardian. Leave a comment, and I may reply, and tell me what you like or want to see.**

 **Will I put your suggestion in? Maybe.**


	3. Chapter 2

Looking back at the past month, Harry thought about why he was sitting here in the champion's tent prior to the First Event of the Quin-Wizard Cup. The sith champion, Maris Kra, is leaning against the table next to him, practically oozing confidence. Harry wishes he had even a smidgeon of the zabarak's confidence.

Despite his frayed nerves, and the cheering crowd outside, the youth's mind drifted back a month prior onto his fated day of the year. Hallow's Eve.

 **October 31, 1994**

Harry sat in the corner of the room, as the heads of the three European schools argued amongst each other about his impromptu appearance as the 2nd champion of Hogwarts. Lord Azukra simply stood there and wore a literal mask of indifference. Grandmaster Ronnelis paid no attention to the argument, but his focus remained on Harry. His lips twisted into something, it looked more like pity, or maybe even worry about Harry's future health. The boy did not know which, but it was hard to feel appreciation for either.

The champions on the other hand, were far more straightforward. Cedric Diggory, who Harry hoped would be on his side, kept his distance away from him, only to give an apologetic smile. Victor Krum had stoical grimace, more annoyed by his presence in the room than his forced participation in the tournament. Fleur Delacour gave him a look from across the room that was a cross between pity and anger, all behind the snootiest glare that had Malfoy beat. The moment it was revealed that he was in tournament she called him a little boy.

A little boy does not survive multiple near-death experiences.

A _little boy_ does not fight a wizard with his bare hands in fear drenched inspiration.

A _little boy_ cannot _kill_ basilisk with a _sword_.

 _A little boy cannot drive away hundreds of dementors with an overcharged expecto patronum charm in sheer desperation._

 **He is not a little boy.**

"Harry-"

Harry flinched at Kerran's voice. He noticed that his fingernails had dug painfully into his own palms. He had no idea where that came from.

Kerran Ronnelis stood next to him, his mouth furrowed with concern. "Are you okay?"

"You believe me, right?" Harry pleaded.

Kerran smiled. A sense of comfort filled his mind as the jedi acolyte nodded toward him in affirmation. "Of course. I sense no deception in the force from you." He looked up and tilted his head over to the corner of the room behind Harry and away from the Professors. "I'm not the only that believes you."

The unfortunate youth looked behind him to see the sith girl, Maris Kra, she smiled at him. He found no comfort in that expression. "Why does that not assure me?"

The miralukan chuckled under his breath. "That is because you are not stupid, Harry. Maris is a dangerous adversary who could tear you apart with her bare hands but- "He lowered his tone, so his voice would not carry across the room. "You're not on the top of her list."

"Who is on the top of her list?" Harry asked, already unconsciously offered his condolences.

He grimaced. "You will probably figure it out before the end of the tournament."

Harry resisted the urge to add on to his statement, _if I survive_.

It looked like the school heads had finally come to a forced agreement by the hands of Mr. Crouch. As all six champions were ushered off to bed for the night, Harry was sent back to Gryffindor Tower. The teachers did not believe him and most of the champions did not want anything to do with him. The one thing he could count on was the support of the House of Lions. They backed him up when he was under suspicion as the Heir of Slytherin, and they watched his back during the Azkaban debacle last year.

He looked up at the Fat Lady as she waved politely. Harry could trust his best friends and his dormmates to support his claim of being falsely entered into the tournament.

 **November 13, 1994**

When Colin Creevey interrupted the fourth-year double potions class, Harry thanked him for his timely entrance. The past two weeks have been mess. Ron refused to believe that he did not enter his name in the tournament. He was being a complete prat that did not want anything to do with him. Hermione was almost as bad, she believed but had squirreled herself away in the library to help him.

Harry did not want help. He wanted friends, someone to watch his back when stinging hexes were flung across the room when the teacher's back was turned. When dirty looks came in droves that made him shrink into his seat during the meal times. Then Malfoy started to pass out those blasted enchanted badges.

It had been an overall unpleasant couple of weeks.

As he entered the Harry immediately came face to face with an older witch with glasses and notepad in hand. A photographer who floated around in the background behind her. She smiled at his appearance at the door of the room.

"Harry!" A girl called out. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, the grip possessive, and Harry immediately tensed up, but was completely unable to break free, let alone move. Maris's voice hovered near his ear, " _Don't talk."_ Her warm breath caused a chill to go down Harry's spine, it froze him in place.

Maris continued, her attention shifted toward the reporter, her golden eyes locked onto the older woman. "We've been waiting for our little champion to show up! It's about time to start the _weighing of the wands_ \- "She leveled a glare toward the reporter and her photographer, both immediately pulled away from the students, fear palpable in their expressions. Maris continued, "We don't have time for interviews, we are just about to start the ceremonies."

The sith girl guided Harry away from the press and herded him toward the other gathered champions before her vice-like grip left his shoulder. Harry turned around to face her and noticed that she has a good two feet on him, which only gave her a more intimidating stature with her face twisted into a snarl. "Paparazzi." She hissed. "Like womp rats over a bantha's corpse."

Harry chose this moment to speak up, "Why you do that?"

Maris turned her golden eyes upon him. "Did you not hear what I just said youngling? That woman is nothing more than insect flying around our- "

"Kra." Kerran chastised, only for her face to turn even more vicious. Krum, Diggory and Delacour all took a step back.

"Don't start with me, _Ronnelis_." Maris said his name with such venom. She turned her attention back onto Harry. "To repay me for saving you from that mynock's claws, you're sticking with me Potter." She really did not leave him any room to say no.

Professor Dumbledore soon entered the room followed by Mr. Ollivander, the renowned British wand maker. As he examines the wand of Delacour, Maris talked with Harry, as she tried to understand more about magicals' wands. "So, each wand is meant to be unique for each wizard yes?" She questioned.

Harry's mind stuttered for a moment, before he nodded hesitantly. "Something like that." He thought back to a tidbit of information he heard a while ago. "Wands are like…trainers."

"Trainers?" She seemed unfamiliar with the term. She gave him the look to elaborate. Since Mr. Ollivander was in the middle of making comments about a rival's wand craft while he examined Krum's wand.

Harry blushed in embarrassment. Of course, an alien would not recognize what he means. He looked down at her feet to see that she was wearing boots. "Or boots," He gathered his thoughts in a moment. "The right-sized boot fits great and its comfortable and familiar. Sure, someone else could wear your boots, but they won't have the same familiarity or comfort."

She nodded at this, her face rather blank. "Interesting." Maris commented.

Harry was soon called over for his own wand weighing, but after that came the lightsaber examination.

The sith lord stepped forward. Lord Azukra looked down toward Kerran, his helmeted visage rather intimidating when focused on a singular person. Harry always thought that his fellow was a perfect jedi, in control of his emotions, and cool under pressure. To see him sweat a bit underneath the presence of the sith order master was certainly a sight. He handed his lightsaber over to Lord Azukra, who immediately tossed it back and forth between his hands, as he examined the adept hilt. He grunted, then tossed the hilt into the air. Kerran jumped in surprise flinched as he resisted the urge to jump after it.

The lightsaber remained in the air, it floated between the two. "It's your first lightsaber, not your first child." Lord Azukra chastised the jedi. "If it cannot handle a little fall like that, then you are certainly going to break it before this tournament is done." He lifted his hands into the air and pulled the lightsaber apart with the force. All of the parts were examined; lens, emitter, and the crystal. Azukra pushed his hands together and rebuilt the lightsaber.

It floated back down and into the sith's open palm. With a flick of his thumb, the lightsaber ignited. The deep blue light lit up the room. Azukra then turned the blade off and handed it back to Kerran. "It's in working order, and as expected of young Ronnelis, it is _decent_ work." The armoured sith stepped backward to stand with the other headmasters.

Maris stepped forward along with the jedi master. She unclipped two cylinders from her waist. One hilt was smaller than the other as she handed them off to Master Ronnelis. "Thank you, Miss Kra." He levitated both sabers into the air and like his sith counterpart, he pulled them apart, the parts examined through the force.

Master Ronnelis then stated, "If I didn't know your father as well as I do-" At this Harry could hear the mechanized growl behind Azukra's mask. "I would have said that he helped you, but we both know he'd never do that. Far too much pride."

The Grandmaster reassembled the two lightsabers, and activated them; a red blade, and the shorter purple one. He quickly turns them back off, "Good work." He complimented her before he hands the blades back to Maris. The sith girl backed away from the jedi, her eyes did not leave his covered ones, until she was next to Harry once again.

With the "Weighing of the Wands" completed, the woman that Harry learned to be Rita Skeeter, tried to take a near dozen photos of the champions and their school heads. She even tried to take Harry aside into the broom closet for an interview, only for Maris to block her every time.

In despite of an awkward conversation where he compared wands to boots, Maris stuck around Harry. After the previous weeks of forced isolation, even dangerous sith was welcome company. For the next week or so after, Maris certainly made time to keep Harry company outside of class time. She was a bit chilly, but she had a lot of questions about the British magical world, and Harry wasn't the most knowledgeable person to ask about it. Despite a slanderous article from the Daily Prophet, decrying Harry Potter and his "xeno" girlfriend.

Maris practically laughed at the paper in the middle of the Great Hall, before decreeing that as the future Mrs. Potter, the British Magical World will now serve her in her bid to conquer the planet.

This naturally sent the majority of English students into a panic, which upon asking her about later, Maris freely admitted that she "just wanted to watch them run around for a bit."

Kerran kept giving her these funny looks from across the hall, however. In despite of what Hermione may say about the jedi order and their new rules about major displays of emotion in public, Harry could swear he got a dirty look from him whenever he spent time with Maris.

Then the day of the First Task arrived.

 **Present**

Honestly, Harry did not know what to suspect.

He couldn't fight a dragon with spells like Krum or Cedric, and he certainly could not put a dragon to sleep with an extensive knowledge of charms like Fleur. So, he summoned his broom and outflew the Hungarian Horntail. Except for a few minor burns, he survived.

The moments that lead up to his task were definitely filled with fear and terror. The audience thrummed with shock and awe only escalated his nerves before he set foot out of the tent, but it was now over and done with. He sat with the rest of the champions below the judges' table to view the remaining competitors fight their own dragons.

A near two dozen wizards and witches usher in a massive dragon, the largest breed in the tournament. The dragon was a hulking mass, a third bigger than the Horntail, and talons the size of classroom doors. With the metallic grey of its scales and its sheer size, the Ukrainian Ironbelly is a dauting obstacle.

The audience for the Quin-Wizard Cup was practically whipped into a frenzy with Bagman's commentary. "The largest dragon breed known on Earth, the Ukrainian Ironbelly is more than just a challenge for our contender. I don't know about you folks, but I don't think these _sith_ are up to snuff compared to us magical folk. I hope this young lady knows when to throw in the towel!"

Harry thought back to his time in the contender's tent an hour before. Maris smiled when she heard the description of the dragon, let alone the animated figurine that fit her palm. Her smile did not give reassure Harry. In fact, knowing what he does considering the _Star Wars_ movies and the short display during the _weighing of the wands,_ Harry was practically giddy with excitement. He had to remind himself that Maris was still an alcolyte, so she probably couldn't pull off **some** of the things in the movies.

To charge full-tilt at a dragon with a war-cry in her throat was something Harry watched in disbelief.

The dragon was unconcerned, and with a quick breath in its lungs, fire shot from its mouth in what could only be a fireball directly in Maris's path. The ball of flame met her charge, and bent around her as she ran through it, manic-like glee on her unburnt face. The dragon reared onto its back legs, its neck stretched upward as an orange glow travelled from its chest to its throat. It prepared to fire again, only for Maris to leap 15 feet into the air and latch on to its muzzle.

Her thighs rode the dragon's snout as her lightsaber's came to life in her hands, red and purple, before they melded into blurs. Maris slashed repeatedly at the dragon's face, roars of pain escaped its mouth alongside licks of fire that was already built up in its throat.

The dragon bucked its side to side, up and down to dislodge the sith on its face and succeeded. Maris was tossed through the air, boneless like a devastated corpse, only to right herself into a flip before she hit the ground. Her lightsabers were crossed in front of her body in a defensive crouch. The sith was silent her war cry no longer in her throat. Her eyes trained on the dragon while her face was bathed in the luminance of her weapons.

The dragon had deep furrows in its scales from the lightsabers, and Harry realized just how strong a dragon's scales really were. The Ironbelly dug its forelegs into the ground, furrows from its claws in the dirt, while its nest sat below its torso. The golden egg shined with brilliance among its greyish counterparts.

Maris stood up from her crouch. The dragon snarled in response but did not react. A bellow emerged from her throat, the force of the yell itself buffeted the dragon's head aside, only for Maris to leap to the forward and land beside the torso of the dragon.

She charged forward and **shoved** the largest breed of dragon in the world aside like an American Football quarterback.

The Ironbelly landed on its right flank, and Maris swept into the nest and snatched the golden egg. With speed that she did not show before, it was a full sprint back to the competitor's entrance with the dragon on her heels. The handlers descended upon the arena and wrangled the injured beast back to the cages.

The audience was in complete awe, while Lord Azukra simply said, "Good enough."

The sith order clapped politely, which was then joined by the overwhelming praise by the arena. Harry sat back in his seat and absorbed just what happened. He attempted to rationalize it, and completely missed the arrived of Kerran and his own draconic obstacle.

While the Ukrainian Ironbelly was a massive beast, Kerran's obstacle was the much smaller, but far more hostile, Peruvian Vipertooth. Fifteen feet tall, and twenty feet long, copper-coloured dragon was a venomous predator that favoured the taste for human flesh. Harry had no idea how the Miralukan would get past the dragon let alone fight-

It purred while Kerran ran his hand along it's snout.

With complete nonchalance, the young jedi plucked the golden egg from the nest, like grabbing a sickle off the ground.

For the second time within a half hour, the crowd was stunned into silence again.

 **A/N:**

 **I thought about keeping Harry meek during the initial champion selection, but I rationalized with the sith being an actual thing-**

 **Get angry Harry.**

 **Initially, I wanted Maris to comfort Harry during the selection, but Kerran has been too nice to Harry and friends. So, he now has skeletons in his closet now, because even good-two-shoes jedi can make terrible decisions. What secrets do you hide, Kerran?**

 **I kept fooling around with the idea of having Harry or the other champions fight a Rancor, acklay or a terentakek, but I couldn't make it rational. "Hey magical people, wanna fight an alien creature you know nothing about and probably won't see again for the rest of your life?" I couldn't make it fit, so…dragons.**

 **I ended up getting most of this done a couple weks back, but then I started to run out of steam near the dragon fights and weighing of the wands, which defeated the entire purpose of this shorter, story. Hopefully, I want to get the next chapter done before next Sunday, I just need to streamline myself and not get too caught up in the little things like in here.**


End file.
